The first Games
by water.colored.angel
Summary: Celia, from District 10, is one of the very first tributes to the first Hunger Games. She has grown up through the war, lost her parents, and only has one reason to even try to fight to come back.She'll fight like hell to try to get back to Brandon.
1. Chapter 1

*Morning of Reaping*

The hot damp air does not help me wake up. I wake up screaming, struggling to breath. My hair sticking around my neck, my mind still clouded from my nightmare, I believe that someone was strangling me. My arms fling around me trying to swat the invader away. I slowly come to the conclusion that no one was tempting to kill me. My body reacts before my mind, it jumps up into a sitting position, my knees to my chest, and I rest my chin between my knees.

"I'm alone," I force myself to speak aloud. I look around my room making sure there were no intruders. I've been alone since I was twelve years old.

I had come home one day crying, I remember because it was the first time someone had pointed out that I had a black mother and a white father. I guess I'd never actually noticed; I'd only seen a loving mom and dad. They, my peers, had called me a mutt, and my mom and dad horrible names that at that time I didn't know what they meant, I'd just been upset they were being mean. I had pushed the front doors of my house, which was a butcher's shop, wide open.

I had stopped moving, my body reacted way before my mind could truly catch what had happened. I had dropped to my knees screaming as the image of my father covering my mother in a protective hug in a big crimson red puddle, the liquid flowing from their heads from where their butcher's knives were lodged into their skulls, on the floor burn into my memory. Tears had gushed down my cheeks. To this day I'm not quite sure how long I had screamed before anyone came to help.

I force myself to breathe tearing myself from the nightmare that always plagues me. I force my hair back away from my neck. I kick my legs over the side of my bed, which was just a mattress on the floor. I wobble over to the corner that leans against the wall.

My reflection stares back at me. Intimidating, that was the word most gave to me. It has to be my arms. They were thicker than most of the girls in my district, but then again most of them don't have to run a butchery. I had to carry heavy meat from where it hung to the cutting slab, and then cut the thick meat. But sometimes I get lucky and Brandon is over to help me.

I run my fingers through my hair catching the knots as I lean over and grab the white brush that had once belonged to my mother; the white paint was starting to chip where I always hold it. Tears threaten to slip out of my eyes as I brush my hair. My mother used to brush my hair when I was growing up; she always smiled as she said that it felt like silk. I still have yet touched silk, and I probably would never touch it.

There was a soft knock at the front door. I was still in my pajamas that consist of my father's old worn jeans and a faded shirt. I quickly walk out of my room, down the hall, down the stairs. Just as my feet hit the ground the smell of the bloody animal meat assaults my nose. I stop moving and just place a hand on the handle of the meat room; I take a deep breath and push the door open. I close the door behind me tightly so the warm air wouldn't seep in. I race through the room and quickly swing the door open that led into the shop itself. There were still red marks on the floor where my parent's blood wouldn't come out.

I take a deep breath of the cleaner air as I walk towards the front door. I place my hand on the knob as I unlock it with the other. I twist the knob opening the door. A smile crosses my lips as Brandon steps into the shop.

"Brandon," I whisper as I hug him. I step back after a half a minute. He smiles. He was a darker in color than me but his eyes were a bright green just like his mother, and her mother, and so on.

"Cielia," his smile isn't nearly as big as mine. "This is our last reaping." That was when he truly smiles. I finally notice that he was wearing nicer clothes.

"Yeah," I nod. "Let's go upstairs, I need to get dressed." He follows me through the house but he stops when I step into my parents' room. He closes the door.

"I'll be quick," I yell so he could hear me. I walk over to the small closet that held my mother's few nice clothes. I grab an earthy brownish green blouse made of some soft fabric, and then I walk over to where she kept her normal everyday clothes. I grab her green jeans. Quickly I slip out of my sweaty clothes and place them neatly on my parents' bed. 'I'll clean them when I get back,' I think as I slip on the nicer clothes. I walk over to my mother's dresser. I grab the little glass bottle that held a light pink liquid. I open the top and put a tiny bit on my finger tip and dab around my neck and arms. Now I have a rose smell to me, I smile and close the top of the bottle. I open the door and for a good minute he didn't say anything making my cheeks heat up.

A smile crosses his lips as he says, "you look beautiful." I couldn't help but to smile at the comment.

"Whatever," I say giving him a playful punch to his shoulder. Inside I feel different around him; I'm not quite sure what it is though.

We walk into my room. He sits down on the corner of my bed as I walk to my mirror and lift up the brush once again. I brush my long wavy brow hair. I pull my hair up into a tight bun on my head where my mother wore her hair; I tie mine with a single red ribbon I only wore on the Reaping Day.

"How many times have you put your name in?" He asks.

"Close to two hundred, those first couple years were hard, I needed the extra food." I admit. "It is ironic that I own a butchery but I'm not allowed to have any of the meat." I watch him move off the bed and walk up behind me. He places his hands on my hips. My hands find a spot on top of his hands. The difference between our skins wasn't that much, but again I was lighter just by a few shades. It reminds me that I am different. There aren't many people like me, color wise. I'm not sure why though truthfully.

"Cielia," he was about to say more when the bell chimes. "It's time to go." I nod; I grab my necklace, a leather bond necklace that held a black flat stone with a hold in the center. My mother had given it to me for good luck. I untie it. Brandon takes it from my hand and ties it around my neck. This has been our little tradition we share. I walk over to my bed and slip my boots on. I pull my jeans over them. Brandon offers me his hand, I take it and he pulls me up. He slowly grabs the stone and lean down and actually kiss it.

"Good luck," he smiles. With that my cheeks heat up and I look away. We walk quietly to the town square. When we stop just a few feet from the square we hug and wish the other luck.

I take my place in the group of girls I once had gone to school with. I had slowly stopped going to school. I lost the reason I should go. I had a job and truly I didn't want to hear the crap the Capitol forced us to learn. I didn't want to hear the gossip the girls spread; I didn't want to answer questions about my parents. Brandon was the only person in my grade that actually knew I hadn't just died, that I just stopped going to school.

Our 'lovely' district escort starts talking about how important these games are. The escort was a woman in her late twenties with bright pink hair, and her eye lashes, cheeks, fingernails, and lips were all highlighted with the pink. She finally wraps up the long speech, that's when I tune back into actually listening to her.

"Alrighty lovies time to pick the tributes!" She squeals in the capitol accent. She steps towards one of the bowls with the names. "Girls first of course," she smiles as her delicate little hand reaches into the bowl. "And our female tribute is," she pulls one of the curled piece of paper and takes her precious time unraveling it. "Cielia Arachine." My heart pumps fast as my body holds still. The entire section of girls step away from me letting the Capitalist find me easily.

"Don't be shy dear," the woman says a little too sweetly. I wasn't being shy, I was scared to death. My feet start moving on their own. I force my face to stay calm; I stuff my hands into my pockets so no one could see them shake. I take my place on the stage, and then she calls out the boy. I didn't know who he was. They move us into separate rooms to say our good byes to our friends and family. I awkwardly just stand there.

The door opens and Brandon rushes in. He hugs me to his chest so fast and tightly that it takes my breath away. My tears start to flood and drench his shirt. He pulls me away just enough that he can look me in the eyes.

"Cielia promise me you'll return." His voice was full of panic.

"I ca-," I start.

"No, just promise me." His eyes flicker all around me trying to burn me into his memory.

"Brandon, I can't," I cry.

"Just promise me you'll return back to me." He cries.

"I promise." I force the words to come out of my mouth. "I'll do my best." He gives me that smile that makes my knees go weak. Then it hits me. "It's love! That's what I feel!" His mile brightens. He leans down and gives me a kiss.

"Do whatever it takes; I want you to come back." He says as the doors open. He hugs me tighter. "I don't care what it takes just win these games for me!" The guards start to pull him away. "Remember to fight and come back!" And as they pull him out of the room he yells in at me with his eyes full of tears, "I love you!" The door slams shut and I fall to my knees. My face in my hands I finish crying. I wipe the tears away, the snot too. I stand up and hold my shoulders high.

The door opens and a 'peace-keeper' walks in. He leads me down to a train. I've never been on one let alone see one. There wasn't much talk on the train, except that I finally did catch her name, it is Twinkle, like the song that my mother had sung to me when we and papa sat out looking up at the stars. I hide in the room they assigned me to. I only came out long enough to get water and food. When we got to the Capitol I did play the part of the good girl. I acted sweet when were publicly displayed.

For the chariot ride my stylist thought that dressing me in a white outfit and an apron sprayed with fake animal blood was a good idea. I bit my bottom lip keeping my mouth shut. My training consists of me learning how to blend into any natural surroundings, learning how to swim, and how to make a human size traps. My mentor just told me to find a good hiding place and just let the others kill each other.

Then finally came the interview. Miss Freema Oireen was the nicest person I've met in the capitol. She was in a green dress with the most colorful feathers I've ever seen. I was in a red silk dress. I still can't believe that I'm actually touching silk.

"So Miss Cielia, how has your stay in the capitol been?" She smiles.

"Sad," I blurt out. She frowns.

"Why so?" She asks with true curiosity.

"Because I miss someone," I answer looking down at my hands fighting the raging war inside of me.

"Boyfriend?" She guesses. I bite my lip for a second not really wanting to share him to the world.

"Sort of, he is way more than just that. He's helped me since I was twelve." I answer.

"What happened when you were twelve?"

"My parents were killed," I say crossing my arms. There were small goose-bumps that cover my arms. I felt awkward in this dress.

"That's terrible!" She cries. Tears form in her eyes. "H-how have you been since then? I don't know what I'd do if I lost my parents."

"I've been working," my voice was shaky, "in the butcher shop my father had worked so hard to build."

"All by yourself?" She asks.

"Mostly," I answer.

"What is the boy's name you love?" She asks. My cheeks heat up.

"W-well," I stammer. "His name is Brandon. He's the one person that's been with me through all the hard times I thought I was about to break into millions little pieces. Truthfully I hadn't realized that I loved him until they called my name at the reaping. I knew that he was more than just a friend." I smile to myself, "and now he is the one reason I'm going to try to come home. The reason I'm going to fight as hard as I can. Brandon, if you are watching I want you to know that, I'm sorry if I don't keep my promise!" Tears actually find their way down my cheeks. The gong rung signaling the interview was over. She stands up as I stand up.

"Well this is Cielia Arachine, let's hear her support! Good luck," she smiles and gives me a hug. The audience was applauding me. Then I'm lead off the stage. Twinkle and the mentor both say that I did great in getting the pity vote. I try to ignore that. The only other thing important that happens is the scoring. I get an eight from showing I can capture a target in a rope trap and then slice their neck wide open. I doubt I could actually do that.

"You guys ready?" Twinkle chimes on the last day. She leads the boy and me to a large air craft. We are placed into seats, the windows were blackened. The craft stops moving, we are sent down tubes entering our own rooms. My stylish puts me into the clothes that I originally wore here except she gave me a brown jacket. I place my necklace under my shirt so the cool rock lies between my breasts.

"Good luck Cielia," she smiles as I step onto the platform. She waves good bye as the platform rises up. Seconds of being in the darkness the sun's light blinds me.

"On the count of three the Games will begin." Cassus Ludus's voice announces loud and clear. My body fills with anxiety and dread.

"One, two, three, let the game start." President Kane's voice echoes.

* * *

**So, this is for a hunger games OCT (Original Character tournament). If you liked reading this please go to **** my main page and follow the link and write a review there. I really really want to be in this oct so I need all my reviewers help. It would mean so much to me. And if you are the first five people I'll write a FF for you! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, so I'm not in the contest for this anymore, complete sadness I might add...**

**So I give to my readers two options, either I just write this for the heck of it or I can drop it like a hot potato. Which one would you rather me do? And if you do want me to continue writing this you can give me a tribute as well~  
**


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